


Win

by m0usielous1e



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 02:28:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7081063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m0usielous1e/pseuds/m0usielous1e
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She is not that surprised, not really, by the diagnosis when it comes."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Win

**Author's Note:**

> So this was inspired in part by the amazing fics I have read in this fandom. Also, I have a thing for writing baby stories. I have issues, is what I'm saying and this may be therapy. In this fandom, imagine that. Anyway, enjoy.

She is not that surprised, not really, by the diagnosis when it comes.

“Yes, you’re pregnant,” says the Hilltop’s obstetrician, not looking up from the printout in his hands. “There are the hormones, a little blood but nothing to be alarmed about. Probably implantation taking place on schedule or stress... Have you experienced any nausea? Lightheadedness? Fatigue?”

She shakes her head, still hunched over slightly on the examination table, staring hard at the paper in his hand. She should have seen this coming but with all this business with Negan and poorly conceived coup d’états and just keeping their people alive, it has just slipped her mind until it does not. In fact, if Rick had not insisted on this check-up because, hey, might as well since we’re in town, she may not have noticed at all. Well, not until she started putting on weight anyway.

“I’m going to have to give you a sonogram. It may be a little early but at the very least there may be a heartbeat. Lie back and lift up your shirt,” he commands, already going to the machine. Michonne hesitates for only a moment before laying back. She wants to tell him she knows the routine. She wants to pretend that she does not.

He comes back and spreads the gel on her belly without so much as a by-your-leave and then comes the device and before he even has a proper fix, a rapid, steady beat fills the room. “Ah,” he says, finally turning to her with a broad smile, “There we go. Strong and clear, just what we want to hear.”

His face blurs in front of her because Michonne’s eyes are filled with tears. She still sees his expression fall away though before he asks tentatively, “M-Michonne?”

She squeezes her eyes shut and confesses, “I…I had a son. A little boy. I lost him in the beginning.”

He pauses, switches hands on the device to rest one on her shoulder with a gentle squeeze and says, “I’m sorry. I should have asked before…”

She shakes her head and says, “No, it’s okay. Everyone’s lost someone. What’s the point of asking now, right?”

He is quiet for a beat, and then he clears his throat, turns away and says, “Everything looks fine here. I would say you’re at about seven or eight weeks or so. I need to get you started on some vitamins but you’re healthy otherwise. No morning sickness is good. You’re lucky, we have a woman here who has been sick from the beginning and now I have her on bedrest.”

Michonne opens her eyes to glance at the screen and then quickly away. She cannot block out the sound of the heartbeat racing just under her own but she does not have to look. She is still working through being around Judith, who is walking and talking now, who calls her “Momma” and always happy to see her. Judith who is nothing at all like Andre and yet reminds Michonne of him all the same.

It seems like an hour, but really a few minutes before the doctor is finally satisfied with what he sees and removes the device to hand Michonne a napkin. She wipes her belly with her head bowed and does not allow her hand to linger. The doctor sets about printing a shot from the scan and says, “For what it’s worth, congratulations.”

She looks up to find him smiling at her, even though his eyes crinkle a bit at the ends with a little sadness, and he continues, “I know bringing babies into this world may not seem ideal, especially after what happened to your son, but it is a good thing. I try to think of it as another way of fighting back, you know? We’re not going to let Death win any more than it already has, right?”

She takes a deep breath before replying, “No, we’re not.”

He hands her the photograph and she sticks it into her pocket without looking at it. He gives her another reassuring smile and sends her on her way.

 

Rick is waiting for her at their pick-up when she finally steps out of the small trailer that doubles as the Hilltop’s doctor’s office. “Everything okay?” he asks.

She wonders for a moment if he has figured out her secret in that prescient way of his. He lets his gaze trail the length of her form and back to her face, expression unchanging. She used to be a closed book to him. She used to be a lot of things. She nods and says, “Let’s go home. We need to bring Judith next time. She’s a bit overdue for a few shots. Might as well get her what they have while they still have it.”

Rick nods at this and heads around to the driver’s seat.

The drive back to Alexandria is pleasant, quiet. Rick has wanted to visit Maggie for some time but many things, the foremost of which Michonne suspects is shame, has kept him away. She does not ask him how that meeting went, she can guess. Maggie has never blamed Rick for what happened that day, Michonne knows because she actually still speaks to the younger woman from time to time. Rick, on the other hand…

Silence, she quickly discovers though, is a terrible decision. Saying nothing to Rick gives her time to think. She has to tell him about the baby, she knows this, and she also knows exactly how he will react. Men like Rick Grimes, proper Southern gentlemen, consider children a mark of manhood. He will be thrilled. That he has managed to keep two children healthy and alive thus far, notwithstanding Carl being shot twice, is a source of constant pride. What is one more in the face of that?

She has never told Rick about Andre. She did not plan not to, but has simply never found the time. Now would be a good time. They are alone, for once, and on their way back home. It is perfect for romantic detours and yet the thought never crosses his mind. It would not. No matter how fearless they may have become in the face of walkers, even one can be deadly. She reaches for his free hand across the seat and he grasps hers and holds it on his thigh with a gentle squeeze. She smiles at him when he looks at her and does not say a word.

Rosita is on gate duty, with Tara, when they arrive. Pleasantries are exchanged and reassurances given, no, Spencer has not tried to take over the Safe Zone again, yes, Carl and Judith are fine, he was just walking, well, chasing rather, the toddler down the street, and no, still no sign of Carol or Morgan. Rick takes the news in stride but Michonne can see the tension in the way he clenches his jaw before smiling. That they might be dead is a possibility never discussed aloud.

Rick parks near the gate and they continue on to the house on foot. Carl and Judith, who never goes to bed before eleven now, (and is ready and rearing to go at the crack of dawn the next morning) greet them at the door.

“Daddy! Momma!” cries Judith and she bounds down the stairs and leaps into Rick’s arms. 

Carl, the cool older brother, hangs back but gives Michonne a nod in greeting. Rick cannot take all the credit for keeping Judith alive in a world gone to hell, a big chunk of that goes to Carl. She imagines that he will be no different with this new sibling. Judith says, “Momma, Momma! Me want you now!”

The little girl leaps for her almost before Rick can fully turn to Michonne. Michonne catches her with a laugh and says, “It’s ‘I’, Judy. And you cannot just abandon your father when you feel like it.”

Rick looks suitably wounded at his daughter’s dismissal. Judith blithely ignores them both, already babbling about the day she has just had. Rick laughs and says, “It’s okay. I’m used to it. Let’s get inside. I’ll get dinner started.”

“You should get a shower first,” says Michonne following him.

Carl pretends to sniff at his father, then grasps his nose and says, “Yeah Dad. You reek more than usual. Run into trouble?”

Their conversation continues out of earshot as they head into the kitchen. Michonne closes the front door behind them and walks with Judith over to the couch. Judith pauses as Michonne sits to ask, “Are you listening to me?”

“Of course,” says Michonne, smiling down at the girl.

Judith narrows her gaze a little, skeptical, but then continues with her recount of the day she’s had. Michonne tries, and fails, to not remember Andre at this stage. He had just left the “no” stage and started on the “why” when he died. Judith has been on “why” since before she could say “Dada”. Her world is much bigger than Andre’s had been allowed to be. Even with little girls developing faster than boys, Judith has to grow up a lot faster than that. One day soon Rick is going to have to teach her how to shoot and use a knife. One day soon she is going to have to be like Carl, protecting her younger sibling.

Michonne does not glance at her belly. In her first pregnancy, with Andre, her belly had not grown much. At six months she had looked about three, at nine about seven. Mike used to joke that from behind she did not look pregnant at all. He also would then go on to wax lyrical about her behind. This time around she does not expect things to be much different, backside appreciation included. She can probably keep her secret for about five months before saying a word. She knows that she will not. It is both too dangerous and too important for her to remain silent.

She surprises herself still at dinner when, without preamble, she announces, “I’m pregnant.”

Everything stops, even Judith in the act of playing with her food as usual, a luxury in this terrible new world. Three pairs of eyes turn to her, even though Judith surely does not understand what she means. She meets Rick’s gaze first, then Carl’s and says, “I found out today at the Hilltop. I should have realized before but I didn’t. He says I’m at about seven weeks along. Seven down, twenty-nine to thirty-one more to go.”

She finishes with a smile but there are tears in her eyes again. Silence reigns at the dinner table. Then Carl says, “You can’t go out there anymore.”

“Carl,” says Rick, more shocked than upset.

Carl turns his serious gaze to his father and says, “You know she can’t. It’s not safe, and especially if you’re going out with Negan’s men. They already hate us for killing all those men and holding against them so long, they’re not going to think twice about hurting us any way they can.”

Rick studies his son’s expression for a few moments, then turns to Michonne and says, “He’s right. You should let the others take over from now on.”

“I’m fine,” she says. “We’re fine.”

Rick turns to her at the change in pronoun and smiles. There is no trace of disappointment or fear in his eyes. She has come to know him so well it hurts. He reaches across the table for her hand and when she gives it to him, he says, “I love you. Thank you.”

She smiles back, pushing as much joy into it as she can but she does not miss the force of Carl’s gaze. Then Rick says, “Hey Judy, guess what, you’re going to be a big sister.”

They all turn to her. She asks, “Big sister?”

“Yes, Judith. Your Momma’s gonna have a baby,” Rick replies.

“A baby?” asks Judith with her brow furrowed. Clearly this concept is foreign. She has seen Maggie and Glenn’s son, pressed a kiss to his little forehead when told to, but keeps well away from him. And heaven forbid that Michonne should hold him, even for a moment. Sure Rick can be possessive, but Judith is a mini-tyrant. This is not going to go over well.

Michonne says, “Yes, a baby. Like little Herschel.”

Judith considers this for a moment and then says, “Okay. Is he going to live here with us?”

They all laugh, and Michonne says, “Yes. You’re going to have to share.”

Judith wrinkles her little nose at this and declares, “No.”

 

Carl is waiting for her when Michonne sneaks down to the kitchen for a late night snack. He is blunt and direct. “You did not tell him about Andre, did you?” he asks.

Michonne, searching the fridge for something healthy and edible, replies, “No. The opportunity never came up. I thought you said you were willing to keep my secret?”

She turns to Carl, who merely shrugs and says, “That was before this happened. You don’t look exactly thrilled about this and he’s not blind or dumb. He’s going to notice. Do you want this?”

She lifts an eyebrow, and he rolls his eye and says, “You know what I mean.”

Michonne considers this. She pulls the milk from the fridge—that cow came in real handy—and a glass from the cupboard and joins Carl on a barstool at the counter. She says, “I am, actually. I did not think I could want to go through this again, not after what happened, but then I remember, there were a lot of things that were good the first time.” She stops to smile at Carl. His expression does not change. How stoic this world has made him. She continues, “You guys remind me of that every day. I could not stop what happened to Andre, and I miss him so very much sometimes that it’s hard to breathe, but I don’t regret having him.”

Carl releases a breath. It is a quiet thing, something she thinks he would have preferred her not to hear, and then he says, “Nothing like before is going to happen to this baby. I will protect him and Judith. You can count on me.”

He is really too sweet sometimes. She smiles and says, “I know. But it could be a ‘she’.”

Carl shakes his head and says, “No. I want a little brother. We already have Judith. We don’t need another girl. He can help me protect her too.”

Michonne laughs at this and says, “I don’t know. Judith might disagree with you on both counts. I’m going to be happy as long as she is healthy.”

Carl scoffs at this and says, “That’s what everybody says, even before. I think Andre would agree with me though.”

Michonne laughs again and says, “Oh you boys are all the same. Fine then. Let’s make a bet of it. It will be some time before we can tell but I bet you naming rights. If it’s a boy you can name him, if it’s a girl, Judith and I can name her. How does that sound?”

“Sounds a bit unfair, don’t I get a say in this?” asks a familiar voice.

They both start and turn to find Rick walking into the kitchen. Judith is in his arms, wide awake and teary-eyed. She reaches for Michonne as soon as she sees her. Michonne obliges her and says, “Hey you, had a bad dream? Why are you awake at this hour?”

“Think she just misses you,” says Rick. Then to the both of them, “Carl’s already named Judith. I think it’s only fair that somebody else gets a turn.”

“You already named Carl,” says Michonne.

Rick nods at this and then says, “Well I guess it’s your turn.”

Carl gives Michonne a significant look and she takes a breath and says, “I already named someone.”

Rick stares at her a moment, then says, “Not someone named Grimes.”

Her eyes widen, though, as she had been looking at him, she had noticed the way he had released a breath at her words. He knew. Carl has not missed it either. He asks, “How did you know?”

Rick scoffs and replies, “I know that it means nothing now, but I used to be a policeman, you know. I suspected it since the prison and I may or may not have overheard a private conversation before Terminus.” To Michonne he says, “I am sorry that he could not be here with us, your son, but you have already made room for us, could you again, for one more?”

Michonne stares at him, surprised and then so happy it hurts. She nods, her eyes filling with tears again. Rick smiles at her and steps closer to draw her and Judith into a hug. It does not take Carl a moment longer to join them. They will be fine. They can do this.

Then a familiar someone calls, “Rick! Rick!”

Carl and Rick snatch up the closest weapons they can get find and step in front of Michonne and Judith as Jesus walks out of the living room with his hands up and a broad grin on his face.


End file.
